


Mythological Roles

by Kira_Gold



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Different Genres, Gen, Many small stroies, classpects, probably going to be long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 22:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7126093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kira_Gold/pseuds/Kira_Gold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Each player in Sburb has a Mythological Role, which consists of two components: a class and an aspect. A title can be assembled from any combination of class and aspect,” MSPA Wiki says. “There are fourteen known classes and twelve known aspects in total,” MSPA wiki also says. “Damn, and we haven’t even seen half of the possible combinations!” I think. “And some would be actually very interesting to know about,” I also think. </p><p>And then this happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mythological Roles

Your name is JEREMY and oh my god you hate CATS. These annoying little creatures seem to get their FUR everywhere around your room and you’re ALLERGIC to it. Your sister though does not want to get rid of the godawful tiny monsters which she with her lack of creativity has called WHISKERS and GINGER, and right now they sit on top of your closet staring at you intensely. This makes you really UNCOMFORTABLE.  
Cats aside, you have a variety of INTERESTS. You enjoy learning HISTORY, and the closet, on which the dreadful beasts are resting right now, is mostly filled with your HISTORY BOOKS and not with clothing. You particularly love reading about WARS and STRATEGIC CAMPAIGNS and often fantasise of becoming a famous GENERAL. You believe you would not fail in a single BATTLE like a lot of other so-called commanders did before you. However, your FRIENDS say that you are too EMOTIONAL to not fail a real-life campaign, so you have to satisfy your sharp INTELLECT by playing VIDEO GAMES with thAAAA GET THAT CAT OFF! GET IT OFF!  
Now that Whiskers has jumped on your lap, ignoring all your attempts to push him off, what are you going to do?

**Jeremy: Be future you**

You decide it is too bothersome to deal with the cat, so you become future you. And right now you’re fighting your Denizen. Fortunately for you, it is not a cat, however, you are not more fond of giant dragons than of your sister’s now dead pets. You remember them with no sorrow, if you remember them at all, but right now you have other things to worry about, for example, Python hissing in your direction. She has wounds all over her body and the end of her tail has been chopped off by yet one more of your brilliant attacks but you are familiar enough with greek mythology to assume that you’ll have to shoot her in her mouth to win. For an axekind this knowledge is rather useless, and you can try disorientating your enemy or distracting her but god, you couldn’t be bothered. 

**Jeremy: Be even more future you**

Now you’re even further in the future, and sweet jesus, does your life have any moments without fighting in it? Because right now you are standing on a giant white square in a middle of a giant chess planet called Skaia and your friends are trying to deal with the Black King and the meteors, and one of the teammates is looking at you demandingly. You will probably have to do something after all. But before taking any actions you decide that the webcomic second person kind of storytelling wouldn’t be sufficient enough to demonstrate your amazing leadership skills (though you are not the leader of your session, you believe most of your co-players consider you as such), and so you switch to book third person writing style. 

**Author: Switch**

Okay. Would you mind waiting a second so I can adjust to the new way of writing?

**Reader: Wait**

 

Thank you very much. So, shall we begin?

The previously azure sky of the battlefield planet, as Jeremy’s teammates have been calling Skaia ever since they found out about it, had amber dashes all over it. The Black King used meteors as paintbrushes to leave these marks on the blue canvas, but not much people were there to appreciate the picture created. The black pawns and bishops and rooks and knights were simply incapable of thinking about art — their only task was this final battle. The kids, at least one of whom was a big fan of galleries and paintings, had, not very unlike the black pieces, much more important stuff on their minds. Not getting hit by one of the paintbrushes-meteors was one, enemies’ attacks — another, and the artist himself, or the Black King, or a “horrible skeleton monstrosity with fins and a tail — was cat really the only think you could have prototyped it with? You should’ve asked me, I would’ve given dozens better suggestions!”, was probably the biggest of their current problems. Four out of five Medium planets, as far as they knew, were destroyed already, and they most certainly needed to hurry with defeating their opponent, otherwise there would be not much hope even with a creator of this aspect by their side. 

Jeremy was standing in the middle of a white square, lazily fighting off useless black pieces who dared to attack him, and thinking of a plan. He did all in his power to weaken the King pre-battle already (this resulting in the enemy being irrational enough to make mistakes, which his teammates should’ve taken for opportunities more often than they do now, really!), but it seemed like his help was still needed. Rather unfortunately, Jeremy never got to wear one of the stupid but pretty powerful costumes two of his fellow companions had on them now, which meant his abilities were not as fully usable as they could’ve been, but being a Prince of Mind he still could come up with courses of actions cunning enough to defeat the opponent. What a shame that his friends would much rather attack the King head-on as they do now, then at least try to go with one of his ideas! 

“Jeremy, some help would be appreciated!” one of the girls hissed, reminding Jeremy in some way of his now deceased Denizen, and the boy exhaled slowly. 

“Listen, I’m trying to come up with a strategy which would result in almost a certain victory for us, so you not distracting me would be appreciated as well!” he threw back while dodging another one of the meteors which started to crush in the ground around them much more often then they did before. 

“Bullshit,” the girl snorted. “Listen, Theo is gonna cut off the King’s tail, because his space shenanigans thing is badass enough, and then you can—“

“No-no-no-no!” Jeremy growled, slicing a bishop, who was attacking him at the moment, in half with his two-blade axe. “Listen, if you cut off his tail, it is not going to do much damage, albeit use up some of Theo’s stamina, and you will achieve a much angrier beast as your enemy with less fighting strength in one of most crucial of your allies! If we want to get anywhere with this, you should do as I say, because my plans—“

“Talk then! You have been standing here for the last, what, twelve hours, actually nineteen, doing nothing but killing some minor thingies!” she frowned. “You yourself didn’t even land a singe blow at the King yet, your pre-battle mumbo-jumbo aside! If you have a plan, just explain it, goddammit!”

“I don’t yet, but if I did, it would certainly not include making the thing more furious!”

“For God’s sake, Jeremy, I am a Thief of Rage! I can use his anger! I have been, for the most part of the battle, and I—“

The boy sighed, before grasping his axe tighter. Another swing at an enemy rook almost hit the Thief in the shoulder, making her lean away in fear. 

“What the—“

“Listen, girl”, Jeremy hissed, now copying Python as well. “I am a Prince of Mind and I am your main strategist. Whatever you do — I make up the plans! I steal them from enemies, I think of them myself, I change and improve them — but I am the one _responsible_!!! If you think you can do better — please, go on! Cut off his tail, steal his Rage, do it! Don’t take into account the fact that I can pretty much _see_ the outcome, or at least _guess_ it — do what you want!” The boy took a second catching his breath. He noticed other team members looking in their direction or at least listening, and continued slightly calmer. “You don’t even wear your stupid God Tier pyjamas, you seriously think you could steal all of his anger? Rage isn’t Light or Hope or any other soft-nice-helpful aspect, it’s fury, it’s a force that would eat you alive if you cannot use it all up! You think you’re strong enough to deal with all the anger of the Black King who, may I remind you, is driven almost solely by instinct, because I have literally _destroyed_ his _mind_ with my “pre-battle mumbo-jumbo”, when you cut off an essential part of his body?! Go on, try it!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have destroyed his mind then!” Rage player shouted back. “He is behaving like an animal now, no patterns, no logic, no way of predicting his movement, no—“

“Oh I assure you, there is a clear way of predicting a beast’s reaction to a lot of things, and if you were at least—“

“Guys!” another girl interrupted, landing in between them, her arms in the air. “Guys! We’re on the battlefield, and you’ve literally left the battle to three people out of five, and now that I am trying to calm you down, it’s two, so could you please be quiet!”

There were sounds of swords clashing and the Black King roaring and meteors falling, but the shouting stopped. The girl found it good enough. 

“Jeremy, no one says you’re not the strategist, but could you think of something quicker, please? We don’t have long! Sis, we need help on the actual fighting side, so stop the useless argument, okay?”

She looked pleadingly at both of her friends. The Thief reacted first. 

“Okay, fine, whatever! Just — if he would _not_ attack me whenever I try to discuss an idea, that would be great, okay? Ugh, sometimes I think he is insane!”

“Sis!”

“Insane?” Jeremy whispered, slightly smiling. Girls froze, looking at him. “Do you expect the one who destroys minds to stay in his?! Oh no. You want a plan? Sure, I’ll make you a plan. We’re going to win. Just — don’t complain later. Now leave me alone for twenty minutes, I need to think through the details.”

“Jeremy, I—“ the peacemaker began, but her sister snorted arrogantly and grabbed her by the elbow. 

“Whatever. Bye.”

Neither of the girls saw, since they rushed towards the king to help their friends, that the prince swung an axe in their direction once again, a grin on his face slightly twitching. 

“Don’t complain later,” he repeated, building the perfect campaign up in his mind. “Or do. You won’t change much.”

***

“This is madness, this is maddens, this — is — _madness_ ”, the team leader whispered, listening to Jeremy’s words. “We’re so all gonna die! Whole cutting-off-the-tail thing was crazy enough, but at least it did not put any of us in danger and could have worked, and this—“

“Do you trust me or not?” Jeremy sighed, closing his eyes. Closing his eyes because he was tired, of course. Not because the pupils were weirdly-dilated, not because they were unhealthily cloudy, not any of that. The battle had lasted for almost twenty hours, he had rights to be tired. “When did my plan not work? The King’s the mad one, well, I took care of that, and we can play on his madness.”

“You suggest,” Theo repeated, just to make sure he did not mishear, just to make sure the Prince is completely out of his aspect with making these plans, just to make sure he thinks this might have a chance of working out, “that we, a) attack him all at once, b) with literally all we’ve got, c) with pretty much no chances for victory if this attack does not succeed, and d) not even direct our attack at the King himself?! I’d expect a Thief of Rage to come up with a plan as reckless as this, not the Prince of Mind!”

“If the Thief came up with it, she’d have no evidence to back it up,” Jeremy smirked. “I can predict the outcome well enough to say: it _will_ work. If you want to doubt, I don’t mind, but the battle has been going on for twenty hours, and all we’ve done is chopping off a bunch of his fins and leaving some scratch marks on his bones. The sceptre is still safe and sound, and it is the one thing which gives this monstrosity its power. We don’t have _time_ , even despite having the player of Time with us — heck, he isn’t even on a God Tier level yet! Neither am I, but it is not the point now. The point is, we have to finish the battle quickly. Otherwise, you know, boom.”

Jeremy swung his arm in the air, almost hitting the leader in the face by total accident. He did see the outcome of this plan almost certainly, and it was sure to add some more bright colours to the picture around them. Right now nobody attacked them directly, fortunately enough, and the Prince finally had time to appreciate the beauty of the destruction caused around them. Black pieces were wondering the battlefield aimlessly, attacking his teammates, sure, but attacking each other as well, even daring to do as much as point their swords at the King. The enemies were completely out of their minds, and the mess their pointless movement created was… addictive to look at. Jeremy almost wanted to join, clutching his axe in his hand. But he would never go with his instincts, oh no. The Prince of Mind has much more elegant ways to contribute to the art being created. 

“You know what,” Theo exclaimed, making his teammate twitch and digress from spectating the picture, “fine. I trust your words and judgements and you’ve never made a plan which did not turn out as you wanted it to turn out! Just — right now, I am not sure what is it that you want.”

“Us to win, of course,” Jeremy squinted. They say some can see it in your eyes if you’re lying. The Knight of Space definitely was not one of those people, but precautions should be taken. Prince of Mind knew it well enough. 

**Author: Switch back**

Ugh, really? I was just getting into the taste of it! Fine, fine, let’s go.

Your name is JEREMY and you are the PRINCE OF MIND. Currently you are looking at a CORPSE of your team leader lying in front of you, while this other girl is getting RIPPED INTO SHREDS by your enemy, the BLACK KING, who is clutching his UNSCRATCHED sceptre in one of his skeletal palms. Perhaps some time ago the sight of her BLOOD would have made you worried, but now you think it is a nice addition to the PAINTING the battlefield planet has become thanks to you and the King. METEORS are still falling to the ground, leaving orange smears around you, and you can’t help but ADMIRE the ARTWORK you have produced. 

Or, simply: your name is JEREMY and your hobbies include GETTING ALL OF YOUR TEAMMATES KILLED and creating PURPOSELY FAILING STRATEGIC CAMPAIGNS. You think that others could have found these hobbies rather WEIRD or even DISTURBING, but everyone else is DEAD, so you conclude: WHY EVEN BOTHER?

You think your own blood will be a perfect FINISHING TOUCH.

**Author's Note:**

> I... thought I'd do something less dramatic as a first story? Oh well. Hope you liked it. Also, if you have any suggestions about interesting Mythological titles for me to write about, post them in the comments below!


End file.
